


Battlescars

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Depression, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, NSFW text, Oneshot, Scars, Self-Harm, Sex, Smut, body issues, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: The reader has scars from self-harming, and Dean shows her exactly how much they don't bother him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battlescars

'Hey.' You greeted Dean warmly as he rushed into the bunker, scooping you up into his arms. He kissed you deeply, holding you close as you wriggled in his grip. 'Dean! What's gotten into you!' You yelped, giggling as he dropped you back to your feet.

'Sorry. Guess I missed you.' He said sheepishly, kissing you again. Sam ambled past, grinning at you warmly.

'He's been unbearable. If I'd known it was gonna be like this, I wouldn't have encouraged him to ask you out.' You blushed as the elder Winchester scowled at his younger brother. 'I'll catch you guys later, I'm getting some sleep.'

You looked back to Dean, who grinned. 'Want some dinner?' He asked, and you nodded.

'Order in? I'm feeling pizza.'

He smiled, pulling you in for another kiss. 'I'll get the menu.' He muttered, but didn't move, too intent on kissing the breath out of you. His hands wandered down, groping your breasts and you moaned into him, your body curving into the lines of his. 'Or I could just eat you.' Dean suggested lewdly and you smiled, but pulled away, smacking his ass lightly. He grumbled, heading for the library. 'I guess I'll get the menu.' You watched him leave, the smile fading from your face, a worried frown replacing it.

It wasn't that you didn't want Dean, because you did...so much. The both of you had come close so many times, but every single time it happened, the moment he tried to take your clothes off, you'd frozen, unable to deal, making excuses and he'd been so fucking good about it, assuming it was because you weren't ready. He'd reassured you that he could wait, that he was falling in love with you and wouldn't rush you.

But it wasn't that you weren't ready. For _that_ , you were totally ready. You weren't exactly a shy and flowering virgin. No, the problem was your past and the marks it had left on you. Or more specifically, the marks you'd left on you. It had been a long time since you'd been that low, but the scars remained, littered across your upper arms, thighs and stomach. Little cuts, none of them more than an inch long, but still remaining there as stark white reminders of what you'd felt.

Dean returned from the kitchen, menu in hand, disrupting you from your thoughts. 'You okay?' He asked, and you smiled, nodding, slipping your arms around his neck to place a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled back, holding up the menu. 'Shall we order dinner, m'lady?'

*****

The evening stretched out, and you found yourself sitting in front of the fire in the library with Dean. The little TV he'd installed played a black and white movie in the background, but neither of you were paying attention to it. Dean's head rested in your lap, his finger drawing a pattern on your jean clad thighs as your hands threaded through his hair gently. Discarded pizza boxes littered the floor in front of the two-seater sofa you occupied and a sigh escaped Dean's lips as he shifted a little, his hands sliding from your thighs up to the hem of the long t-shirt you wore. You groaned as he kissed your inner thigh, his breath hot even through the denim of your pants. Before you could stop him, he'd pushed the hem of your shirt up, exposing your stomach, and you freaked, moving so abruptly that he fell and landed on his ass on the floor.

The look on his face was so wounded that you felt immediately guilty, sitting up and yanking your shirt down to cover your skin. 'Dean... I'm sorry.'

'It's okay.' He mumbled, getting to his feet, but the way he said it let you know that it wasn't okay, and he was hurt by the continued rejection. You bit you bottom lip, feeling tears in your eyes. Dean started to clear away the pizza boxes, and you stood up, moving to catch his arm and stop him.

'Dean, please...let me explain.'

'No, it's okay, Y/N.' He smiled, but you could see his hurt through it. 'You don't want to, and I'm not gonna pressure you.'

'But I do want to!' You exclaimed. 'This has nothing to do with me wanting you because Dean, seriously, I want you. I _really_ want you.'

He frowned, confused, dropping the pizza boxes back to the floor. 'I don't understand...then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you freak out, or freeze if I try to touch you that way?' You shuffled, looking down, unsure how to confess. 'Is it...did something happen to you?' He asked, concern flooding his gaze. You looked up, not understanding for a moment before realisation sank in.

'Oh god, no, nothing like that.' You assured him, and he seemed a little relieved. 'I just...there's...I've got some...' Words failed you, and you looked away before he took your hands in his, looking at you with those stupidly green eyes of his.

'Y/N...you can tell me. Anything. Whatever it is.'

You looked back to him, then pulled your hands away, letting your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt. Slowly, you lifted it, only baring your stomach. Tiny white lines littered your skin, half a dozen in one spot, a few clustered around the top of your hip, the largest one sliding underneath your belly button. Dean looked down, seeing the marks, a frown slipping over his expression.

'What...where did you get these?' He asked, his thumb reaching out to trace over a mark on your left side. The touch of his skin on yours made you flinch a little and you didn't reply, an ashamed blush staining your cheeks. He looked up, his hand still on your stomach, his eyes trying to keep your gaze. Slowly, understanding melted over his face, and he frowned. 'Are these self-inflicted?' He asked quietly, barely audible over the television. You nodded, a tear escaping your eyes as you dropped your shirt. Dean didn't move his hand, didn't recoil in disgust or mockery as you'd expected. Instead, he pulled you closer. 'You didn't have to hide this from me.' He whispered.

'I did. They're a weakness. Maybe an old weakness, but you'd think less of me.'

Dean pulled back then, looking down at you with shock. 'They're not a weakness. They're battlescars. You fought a fight that a lot of people would lose. Maybe you didn't have a physical opponent, but sometimes our own demons are the worst.' He stopped, then smiled a little. 'That was kinda deep for me, right?'

You laughed quietly, feeling relief in the pit of your stomach. 'That was. But they're not battlescars. Your scars are battlescars. Mine are just...where I lost.'

'You're still here.' He said, tilting your chin up to kiss you. 'I don't see that as a loss.' His hands went to the hem of your shirt again. 'May I?' He asked, lifting it an inch or so. You nodded, holding your breath as he pulled the shirt up and over your head, leaving you standing in your jeans and bra. The white scars on your stomach stood out, or at least to you they did. There were a few scattered across the underside of your upper arms, and Dean traced his fingers over them gently, his eyes roaming your skin.

'They're horrible.' You whispered.

'No. They're part of you. And there's nothing about you I don't find beautiful.' He said, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 'And I'm gonna show you.' He kissed along your jaw line, down across your collarbone, his fingers sliding around to unhook your bra. It fell from your body, joining your t-shirt on the floor, as Dean's mouth followed the curve of your breast, avoiding the nipple purposely. You arched your back, wanting to feel his lips on the most sensitive part of your breast but he declined to indulge you, instead trailing down, past your breasts, and across your stomach. You went still as his fingers slid under the waistband of your jeans, popping the button. Slowly, he dragged the denim down over your thighs, letting it pool at your feet, encouraging you to step out of the material. You stood before him, only in your panties and socks, his gaze wandering over your body as you felt like hiding. His fingers moved up your legs, tracing over the wider scars on your thighs and you flinched, unsure of his reaction still.

'Oh baby.' Dean looked up at you, his voice running through you like a caress, and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the thickest scar on your thigh, just above your left knee. Then he kissed the next one, and the next one and you moaned, suddenly uncaring about the marks on your skin. He peppered your thighs with open mouthed kisses, his hands coming up to cup your ass. 'You're beautiful.' He said, his forehead against your pubic mound. The vibration of his words made you wet and your hands threaded through his hair again. 'You're a fucking goddess.' His hands squeezed your ass gently, before dragging your panties down to your ankles. You kicked them away, desperate for him to touch you and he didn't disappoint. With one hand he guided you backwards to sit on the sofa, his other hand spreading your thighs. He looked down at you as if you were the only thing in the world and your breath hitched as his fingers traced the folds of your pussy.

'Dean....' You rasped, your hips moving forward of their own accord.

He smiled, sliding one finger knuckle deep inside your cunt as you sat on the sofa, the television still playing in the background. You whimpered, trying to hold back from grinding down on his hand, and he pushed his finger in further, curling it upwards to brush against your sweetest spot. A moan broke from your throat, and he added a second finger, scissoring them in your tight channel, feeling you clench around him. He shifted a little, brushing his thumb over your clit and you yelped, a flood of arousal surging through you as he watched you come apart.

He leant forward, eyes on your face, curling his fingers upwards again and applying pressure to your clit at the same time. You cried out, loudly, cumming hard under his ministrations, and Dean grinned as he pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, licking his hand clean of your juices. 'You're beautiful when you cum.' He said leaning over you to kiss you again. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and as he pulled away, smiled lazily at him.

Dean pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing his muscular frame to you. You licked your lips at the sight, eyes wandering over the tattoo on his chest and you sat up a little straighter, desperate to touch him. He caught your hand as it traced his stomach, over a scar he got from a ghoul. It was long and thin, white against his tanned skin. 'See? My battlescars are the same as yours.' He kissed your fingertips, undoing his pants at the same time.

As he pushed his pants down, you moved forward to capture his mouth in a kiss, and slid into his lap. His cock bounced against his thigh as he leant backwards, letting you settle over him, trapping him between your cunt and his leg. 'I want you.' You whispered, looking down. Dean grinned.

'That's a good thing, cos I'd be offended if you rejected me now.' He quipped, before lifting you up. You took a breath before he pulled you back down, impaling you on his hard cock, your groans mingled with the first contact. 'Fuck, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long.' He muttered, his face buried in between your breasts. 'So fucking long.'

'Uh.' Was about the only response you could muster as he filled you, thick and long. It had been a long while since anyone had been like this with you, and the fact that it was Dean just made it hotter. You moved, raising yourself up and then back down onto him again, and Dean grunted, pulling you closer.

'You're so fucking tight.' He said, his voice strained, his face a mask of bliss as you rode him. You kept your eyes on his, kissing him intermittently as you sank down onto him again and again, feeling yourself spiralling into climax as you continued.

With a cry, you fell over the edge again, finding yourself moved onto your back, on the soft rug-covered floor of the library, Dean still buried deep inside you. He kissed your neck, and then dipped his head, sucking at your nipples as he began to move again, his cock throbbing inside you.

'Dean...' You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet his, your hands clutching at his back desperately as he licked and nipped at your breasts, making you shudder and writhe underneath him. 'Dean, I'm gonna...' You weren't sure how you were cumming again so quickly, but your pussy clamped down tightly around his cock, and Dean found himself inexplicably dragged over the precipice with you, flooding your grasping cunt with his seed, pumping until he had nothing left to give, and you both collapsed in a tangle of sweaty skin and messy hair, clothes left in haphazard piles around you. Dean's jeans were still around his ankles, but he didn't seem to care as he held you close.

After a few moments, you shivered, seeing the fire had nearly gone out. Dean immediately grabbed the throw from the sofa and pulled it over you both, kissing your forehead.

'That was amazing.' You said, looking up at him. He grinned.

'Haven't lost my touch.' He replied, sliding a finger down your cheek. 'Give me fifteen and I'll show you even more.'

You smiled, snuggling into him. 'And you're not bothered by...'

'Y/N.' He interrupted, his thumb on your chin as he smiled at you. 'Don't ever think I'd judge you for old battlescars. They're just like mine.' He kissed you deeply. 'It's just proof you won, baby. That's all.'

 


End file.
